(Fifty-two weeks of this shit)

If I had to make a wager
On whether I could count your age on my fingers twice-over
I would bet all the money in my pocket
All the money that you've given me
Left over from the liquor your older friends bought
Teenagers throwing up in the parking lot

Well, what are we doing here
If you don't want to watch and I don't want to stare?
And if you think I'm finished talking shit
Well, I'm sorry, but this is just the start of it
So, hold on to your swords and fall
My best advice for you to readjust your motives
Readjust your motives

Well, this is just like a part that you'd write
Only ten times better and without the effort
And I know you're just trying to be nice
But you should
Hold your
Breath
Tonight

What am I doing here
If you don't want to watch and I don't want to stare?
And if you think I'm finished talking shit
Well, I'm sorry, but this is just the start of it
So, hold on to your swords and fall
My best advice for you to readjust your motives
Readjust your motives

A repeat image of flashing lights
The total irony of getting pulled over
Going about the same as the rest of my night
Someone tell the DJ to turn the volume up on the fight

What a relief I'm not in high school anymore
The second this ends
I'm going home
What a relief I'm not in high school anymore
The second this ends

What a relief I'm not in high school anymore
The second this ends
I'm going home
What a relief I'm not in high school anymore
The second this ends
I'm going home